


Quartet In DA Minor

by strangegibbon



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Anal Sex, F/F, F/M, Foursome, Humor, M/M, Parody, Sex, Strap-Ons, meta-reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:16:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangegibbon/pseuds/strangegibbon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragon Age one shot because I'm A Bad Person. Hawke's proposed night of passion doesn't go exactly as planned. NC-17, very silly and a bit slashy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quartet In DA Minor

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and clearly have too much time on my hands. Rated M for sexual content, you have been warned.

Hawke eyed the two men standing in her living room appraisingly.

_Decision time. Let's see now. Both tall, both in the vicinity of fair...tragic pasts - check and check - broody demeanour, yes, although Fenris better at the grumpy, Anders forging ahead with the whiny. They would have to turn up at the same time, wouldn't they? Could have taken each of them for a test run first and made my mind up afterwards. Ah well. More pros and cons..._ A vague sense of déjà vu involving her and a pen and paper waltzed through her head before disappearing in a puff of meta reference.

Fenris and Anders stood as far apart as humanly possible without actually leaving the room, Anders twiddling nervously with his staff whilst Fenris scowled at a spot on the carpet as if suspecting it of being of blood magic origin rather than the result of having a large dog in the house.

"I do not appreciate having to wait anywhere  _near_  that abomination" growled Fenris picking imaginary lint off his tunic.

"I heard that! You think it's any better for me having to share my personal space with a dust-covered maniac who mutters to himself continually?"

"At least when  _I_  am communing with myself I know for a  _fact_  that no-one is talking back, you filthy...demon-containing..." Hawke and Anders watched his visible struggle with some interest, "... _mage!_ " A vaguely disappointed look was exchanged.

"I am  _not_  filthy! These feathers need proper maintenance you know! I have to maintain a field to keep them from flapping around but _you_ clearly have _no_ idea about personal grooming which is why you're forced to,  _hah,_ commune with yourself - because no-one else will! You still have dead people in your mansion!"

The two men were inching towards each other, fingers flexing and chins raised threateningly.

Hawke raised a placating hand.  _Got to love it when men fight over you._ "Boys, as exciting as this display of testosterone is- "

They ignored her. Both of them had their respective weapons gripped firmly and they were nose to nose, yelling insults and threats.  _Better get a miasma flask, just in case._ She sidled towards her trunk.

"Your pathetic feather field makes my hair frizz and you  _know it._  You do it on purpose! We should have handed you over to the templars when we had the chance, now all we do is listen to you whine about the plight of mages day after day and  _get frizzy hair._ I am trying to remain inconspicuous! _"_

"Oh right,  _that_  makes you stand out, frizzy hair. You with your black leather and your muttering and that giant hammer you finger all the time. Poser! You think you're so dark and intense and interesting when really-  _mmmph_!"

There was a pause.

Hawke watched the enthusiastically snogging men with some surprise.  _Didn't see that coming._ Fenris pulled away and glared venomously at Anders. "I may have to kill you afterwards."

Anders eyed at him nervously. "After..? Is that a Tevinter thing? Because in Ferelden we generally-  _mmmph_!"

She watched the  _mmmph_ -ing with some interest.  _I daresay this is quite an attractive picture. Not really how I saw the evening panning out though._

"Ooh, that's quite exciting, isn't it?" said a voice somewhere near her elbow. "Very pretty!"

"Wha-aargh! How long have you been standing there Merrill? I didn't even hear you come in."

Merrill rubbed her bruised nose indignantly. "I'm an elf. We're light on our feet," she peered around Hawke and inclined her chin at the two men. "Some lighter than others, apparently."

"Think we should say something? They've been going for a while."

"Oh, not quite yet." They both tilted their heads and watched for a little longer. Eventually Hawke fetched some chairs and they got comfortable. Without opening his eyes Fenris extended a hand in their general direction. When nothing happened he flapped it impatiently.

"Er." said Hawke. "I'm not sure how this would..."

"Ooh, I know this!" trilled Merrill. "I came to visit your uncle one day, he wasn't in, which wasn't surprising since he's got his own arse print in the Blooming Rose, but I found a book under his bed and it had all these pictures, and –"

Anders disengaged himself. "If I could suggest-"

"No you may  _not_ , mage. My patience grows short with your constant-"

"If you don't shut up I'll drop a paralysis glyph and  _no-one_  will have any fun tonight!" snapped Anders. Fenris subsided, glaring murderously.

"So I'll do him, he does you-"

"How  _dare_ you even suggest-"

"Well, you do  _look_ like the natural sponge to my stone. You agree, don't you?" Both women nodded as Anders preened slightly. Fenris subsided again, muttering darkly. "The Grey Wardens taught me a few things, raving Lords the lot of them. Never wondered why they all wear skirts?"

"Aha." tinkled Merrill. "Explains a lot about that Duncan fellow. He must have been a Bear, then."

Hawke shook her head. "Who? A wha-, look, never mind! You should burn that book, Merrill."

"So," continued Anders cheerfully. ""I can lend a hand, maybe two, and some other bits of me, depending. And, you know, I could help out with Hawke, she  _is_  rather demanding...I do you after and...we work around Merrill."

"Oh, don't worry about me" said Merrill happily. "I have this elven contraption. I clip this here, and this  _here..._ " She grinned proudly at Anders who looked slightly intimidated. "Fine..." he said slowly. "But you aren't going to involve any blood magic when you use that on me are you?"

"Well, not on purpose" said Merrill thoughtfully. "But sometimes it's hard to polish all the splinters out beforehand, you know?"

Hawke clapped a hand over a face which was unaccountably hot.  _Gak! Bad visual! Not fair, that's three against one and I'm not talking opinions here. Wait, why don't I get one?_

A set of warm lips had descended onto hers and she found herself pulled flush against the body of a firm and decidedly excited elf. She felt Merrill's arms snake around her waist, hands easing up to cup her breasts and decided there were worse things than fake penis envy.

* * *

Upstairs on her bed they were a panting tangle of limbs.

" _Atchoo!_ Anders, take that stupid feathery thing off, will you?"

"Goodness, you've even tattoos on your-"

"Yes, Hawke."

"So, does that mean you can make it..."

"Yes, Hawke. Ungh."

"Ooh, I see what you mean about Anders' feather field, Fenris.  _All_ of my hair is standing up! Look!"

"Don't you point that thing at me, witch!"

"How can you still be so grumpy with Hawke doing what she's doing to your happy place?"

"Bring that book along next time will you, Merrill?"

"Anybody need healing yet?"

After that there were no discernable words from anyone.  _As test runs go_ thought Hawke breathlessly, Fenris pounding her mercilessly whilst she held onto a giggling Merrill for dear life  _this one is definitely worth another go._ Later she returned the favour, supporting Anders against a surprisingly strong Merrill whilst Fenris' hands and mouth teased her from behind. For a brief moment as she kissed the apostate feverishly she thought she caught a pair of glowing blue eyes winking at her... _no, my imagination. Anders' eyes look just as they normally do._

Hours later she surveyed her ruined bed from amongst a tangle of limbs. Merrill was lying on top of a prone Anders, snoring happily whilst Hawke herself was spooned up against Fenris, head resting on Anders' shoulder. Merrill held tightly onto her hand, even in sleep. Fenris, of course, had refused to take off his maul in case he needed to 'finish off a few magic users' but in the end Merrill had rather creatively used it to do the same to him whilst she and Anders had traced his brands with their tongues.  _Well, similar. Probably not what he had in mind when he strapped it on this morning._

Sighing in satisfaction she wiggled slightly and was rewarded by warm and definitely interested elf groin pressing up against her bottom. There was a low chuckle against her neck. "Again?"

"Why, Fenris." She smiled. "Your stamina pool is a definite plus. Should I rally the troops?"

"No need, I'm sure I can cater to your every whim. We can wake them up after, if you like. I want you to myself for the moment" He nuzzled at a spot below her ear.

"I get it, Mr Possessive. But you could throw in some flowery, romantic phrases a la Anders to, you know, get the juices flowing a bit before the  _real_ phasing starts?"

"I am your obedient slave, Serrah." He paused and eyed the sleeping mages darkly. "Don't you  _ever_ tell the others I said that."

"Yes, yes. You've an image to maintain, I get-  _mmmph_!"

END

 


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